Melissa and the Faraway Tree
by Juliana Brandagamba
Summary: Ten-year-old Melissa has just moved house and is exploring the nearby woods when she comes across a fallen tree of remarkable proportions. But it's not just its size that's unusual. This tree is far stranger than she could ever have imagined, and the mystery with it deeper and more exciting than anything she has come by before.
1. The Tree

'Oh, Mummy, a forest! A forest of our very own!'

An overexcited ten-year-old girl bounded to the edge of the woodland, chattering animatedly, her bright dress dancing in the light summer breeze. It wasn't really a forest, of course, but to her it appeared that way: an expanse of trees, rather dark and mysterious and smelling of foliage and mist.

'Come back here, Melissa,' her mother called from the doorway of the little cottage. 'You can explore later. We're unpacking now.'

Melissa grumpily folded her arms. 'I don't want to do unpacking,' she sulked.

Her mother sighed. Melissa had been like this permanently since they had begun the process of moving into their new home – she was fascinated by the cottage and by the beautiful countryside in which it stood, but she didn't like the time it was taking to sort everything out. 'All right, go and have a run in the woods. But be careful, and come back when I call.'

At this Melissa brightened visibly. Without even thanking her mother she dashed into the woods, skipping over the nettles at the border; her feet danced over the leaves and twigs that covered the ground; she smiled as she ran, and at last came to a clearing, where she stopped for a moment to catch her breath.

Dappled sunlight tumbled through the canopy overhead, creating rays that lit up leaves and roots. It was a truly beautiful forest, to Melissa at least: verdant and vast, with an aura of mystery that would bring her back again and again.

It was then that she noticed the fallen tree.

From where she was standing it was a huge circle, a ring formed from the roots that had been torn from the ground. The remarkable thing about it was just how enormous it was. The roots were very thick and spread out perhaps fourteen or fifteen feet. A hole had been created in the ground where the tree had been, but it had since been filled up with soil and branches.

Cautiously Melissa went over to the roots and walked round them. There she found the rest of the tree: a huge plant, stretching out into the depths of the woods further than she could see. The trunk was wider than she was tall. It was a sorry sight – such a magnificent tree, felled in its prime, now lying sad and mouldering on the forest floor. Colourful fungi snaked across the wood; lichens had taken hold on the thinner branches.

It was, however, remarkable, Melissa found, that the main trunk itself – that huge, seven-feet-wide trunk – was untouched by any other plant. It had survived the mushrooms, the mosses, the lichens; it remained clear and smooth as if it was still alive, still growing.

She placed one hand on the trunk and began to follow it into the woods, silent in respect for the tree's fate; and suddenly she felt something different beneath her hand. Something smoother than the bark. Something that felt like... glass?

Quickly she stopped, turned, looked at where her hand was resting.

It was indeed glass.

There was a window in the trunk!

It had misted over slightly and was cracked in the corner, but it was definitely a window. Beyond it Melissa could make out red curtains; beyond the curtains – some sort of room.

_A tree-house!_ she thought with a jolt of excitement. An adept explorer, she hauled herself up onto the top of the trunk; and she got a shock, for protruding from the other side of the trunk was a whole house, built from wood between the branches and extending into the trunk with the room she had seen.

Rain and decomposers had attacked at this wooden tree-house, making it mouldy and discoloured; it had evidently been on the floor for a long while.

Carefully she clambered onto the sideways house, and came by the door next to the tree's trunk. To her astonishment there was a name upon it: _The Angry Pixie_.

_Pixie?_ she thought, her mind whirling. _Are there pixies in these woods?_

Feeling a little silly, she knocked on the horizontal door; but, as she had expected, there was no answer. The door gave a sad little creak but managed to stay on its hinges. Slightly disappointed, she stood on the trunk and, her legs wobbling slightly, walked along it, taking care to keep her balance. Lightly she ran on until she came to what looked like another house built into the tree; the door of this house was a pastel blue and the name upon it _Silky_.

She found herself wondering who or what Silky was. A pixie like the Angry Pixie, perhaps? No – it sounded like a fairy name, if she was remaining in the realms of fantasy. She could imagine a pretty fairy with golden hair tumbling over a slim figure and gossamer wings, like the ones she had read about in story-books. But her imagination was running wild again. There must be some boring, normal explanation behind all this. Her mother was always telling her not to think such silly things.

She was about to carry on up the trunk – or along it, now that it was fallen – but then she heard her mother calling to her.

'Melissa, where are you? Come and help your father with your toys.'

Melissa groaned. She was in the middle of an adventure – some mystery that she felt she needed to solve. Now that her family owned the woods she knew that she was the only one who could solve this puzzle; and how she wanted to!

But she didn't want to disobey her mother, and so she jumped down from the trunk, snagging her skirt slightly on a bramble that was tentatively climbing up the wood. Then she hurried back towards the house.

Just then a breeze ruffled the branches above her, quickly spreading further down, to the leaves of the canopy and finally to the forest floor; and suddenly Melissa thought that she could make out words – a voice! – in the wind.

_Melissa..._

Was she imagining things again?

_Help us..._

She caught her breath and looked around her. 'Hello?' she called at last, her voice trembling.

No reply. She turned on the spot, looking for a source for the voice; but there was nothing. The wind dropped; the Sun came out from behind a cloud; the forest was once again silent.

Melissa shrugged and continued, resolving to return as soon as she could.


	2. The Chair

_Her wings were torn – that much she could feel. The shooting pain emanating from them combined with the unnatural numbness in the rest of her body made the feeling unbearably acute. She bit her lip and tried to endure the pain, knowing that even with her powers there was no way she could make it stop – not now. She was weak – too weak._

_ '__Silky?...'_

_She knew that voice, turned over to see where it was coming from, suddenly smiled as she gazed into the friendly, naive eyes of Moon-Face. He might have said something else, but she didn't know what, for a burst of pain rocketed through her, from her shoulders to her toes and back again, and she slipped back into unconsciousness._

* * *

Melissa saw that her parents had already made good progress on moving in. Boxes were stacked in the entrance-hall, many of which had been unopened; the contents were in the process of being taken into the different rooms of the house. Just as she entered the living-room her father appeared, beaming down at her over a huge box filled with all of her favourite toys.

'Come and help me with your bedroom while your mother's making tea,' he said, and she trailed after him upstairs, a little lost in her thoughts. She wanted to be back in the forest, back at the site of that strange tree with its doors in the trunk. Who lived there – or had lived there? Who were Silky and the Angry Pixie?

Just as she entered her room, she noticed that something was different a few seconds before she realised what it was. Then she saw the chair in the middle of the room. It was a large wooden chair, quite old but still gleaming, rather beautiful in its carvings and with a red cushion on the seat.

'Where did the chair come from?' she asked.

'Oh, there was a rag-and-bone man came by. I wouldn't have bought anything off him but I liked the chair and he was selling it cheap,' her father explained. 'Why, don't you like it?'

'I like it,' Melissa said quickly and truthfully. 'It's pretty.' She sat on it, trying it out for size, and found it surprisingly comfortable. Her legs were a long way off the floor and she swung her feet against the chair legs. 'Can it be my throne?'

'Your throne? Yes, of course it can.' Her father smiled. 'Queen Melissa. What can I do for you, Your Majesty?'

Melissa grinned. 'You can sort out all my toys, peasant,' she laughed.

'Good queens help their subjects,' her father replied, bending down to start unpacking the toys.

Melissa jumped down semi-reluctantly and began to help him; and in sorting out the toys in her new bedroom and arranging her things just how she liked them she almost forgot about her adventure in the woods.

* * *

It had gone dark by the time her room was sorted, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to explore the forest until the next day. This was slightly disappointing, but her excitement about sleeping in a new house meant that it could wait.

She curled up in her duvet, whose familiar smell clashed a little with the new aroma that surrounded her bedroom. Her head fell back on the pillow and her eyes closed; she was just on the brink of falling asleep when she heard a strange noise.

It sounded like something flapping – like a bird's wings. A slight draught seemed to reach her from somewhere nearby. Cautiously she opened her eyes and glanced around the room; seeing nothing she reached over and turned on her bedside lamp.

It took more than a moment for her to locate the source of the noise, but then, astonished, she saw it. Her thought about bird wings hadn't been far wrong. The noise was indeed the flapping of wings – but they didn't belong to a bird.

They belonged to the new chair.

* * *

On each of its legs the chair sported a thick and feathery bright scarlet wing, and all were clattering noisily and keenly as if eager to be off. Melissa stared. Was she already asleep and dreaming? No – she didn't remember falling asleep. She pinched herself. Definitely awake.

Quietly she got out of bed and went over to the chair, which, she saw, had now managed to propel itself a few centimetres off the ground with its wings. She had never seen anything quite so strange; she nearly laughed aloud, but didn't want her parents to hear that she wasn't asleep yet.

Then, before she could react, the chair had lifted itself into the air and headed for the window, which was closed. It tapped against the window in a strange sort of indignation, seeming almost alive.

'Ssh! Ssh!' Melissa found herself hissing to the chair as its taps became louder and more insistent. She ran to the window and, as silently as possible, reached up to open it. She managed to open the window wide enough for the chair, which hesitated a moment before flying off into the night sky.

Hardly able to believe what she had just seen, Melissa watched as the chair headed off into the distance and out of sight; then, leaving the window open just in case it decided to come back, she went back to bed and curled up once again, still not entirely sure if this was all a dream.


End file.
